


Cinnamon Roll

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:45:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: He’s leading them somewhere and Liu can’t think of a reason not to follow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> clo: liuhimu in a hotel in tokyo!  
> me: !!!  
> me: liuhimu in tokyo eating a cinnamon roll!
> 
> ......yeah that's it that's the fic i just needed to write these two

Tokyo is full. It’s full of people, full of things to do and try, bright lights and loud sounds assaulting Liu’s senses (at least in the touristy part of town he and Himuro are sticking to right now—it had been quieter and more out of the way by the hotel). Still, everywhere it’s crowded and especially here where the streets get a little narrower and a million storefronts are vying for their attention. Liu’s not really sure where to go, what’s “authentic Tokyo” and what’s just a shitty tourist trap and what’s not analogous to whatever’s available back in Akita. Himuro knows, though, or maybe he’s just pretending. Either way, he’s leading them somewhere and Liu can’t think of a reason not to follow.

It's hard to lose Himuro in the crowds; despite how easy it is to think of him as just another short person and lump him in with everyone else, he’s significantly taller than the majority of people here and his head sticks up above the masses. Liu still reaches for his hand every once in a while, though, pulling on it to make him go slower and see if he looks back in half-amusement (and, after that, he walks faster and Liu has to work to keep up because even with longer legs he’s hemmed in by the annoyingly slow people around him, but at least he gets a better excuse to hold Himuro’s hand again).

Himuro stops in front of a hole-in-the-wall bakery, maybe four or five meters deep including the space behind the counter (and about the same width). Inside, its display case is crowded with pastries all glistening with icing and sugar and sprinkles and Liu’s teeth hurt already.

“Taiga said this place was good,” says Himuro.

Liu supposes Kagami would know (what with the way Himuro says he eats). And the pastries do look fucking delicious, and going inside is just another excuse to press himself as close to Himuro as he possibly can.

“Do you want to get a cinnamon roll?” says Himuro.

He tugs on the end of Liu’s t-shirt, even though he doesn’t need to (they’re the only ones in the tiny store other than the cashier and Liu’s already looking at the display case). Liu steps closer, leans down so his head is right in front of the display case, just a few centimeters away from Himuro’s.

“Are you ready to order yet?” says the cashier.

Liu straightens up and almost disguises his sigh, pointing to the cinnamon rolls. “We’ll have one of those.”

“Would you like that heated up?”

Liu looks at Himuro; he’d say it’s too warm outside but Himuro’s nodding so fuck it. It was going to be messy anyway.

Even holding it in the waxed paper Liu can’t stop the icing from dripping onto his hand. Himuro leans over every so often to take a bite out of the side and Liu keeps ripping off pieces with his teeth (it’s so fucking rich and sweet) and they’ve barely made a noticeable dent in the size of the pastry by the time they get to the park.

They sit down on a park bench, and Liu’s careful to keep his free hand closer to Himuro so he can stretch out and play it off like he’s resting his arm on the back of the bench when it ends up halfway around Himuro’s shoulders. Himuro leans into it and then he scoots over and takes another bite of out of the pastry, right from the base where the waxed paper ends and Liu’s thumb is holding it in place. He can feel the heat from Himuro’s tongue right against his skin, much hotter than the cinnamon roll, and he nearly jerks his thumb forward but checks himself in time. The cinnamon roll wobbles in his grip, and he can see the corner of Himuro’s slightly-open mouth turn up. His tongue is still hot, close, and then he licks the crust of hardening icing off the pad of Liu’s thumb. This time Liu almost does drop the damn pastry, and it would serve Himuro right if he did. Himuro moves his head away, leaning back right against Liu’s arm, but Liu still feels the imprint of Himuro’s tongue on his skin, the warmth of all the blood in his body rushing to his cheeks.

If Liu had a free hand, he’d be covering his face with it right about now. He can’t fucking look at Himuro, so he leans back against the bench slats and stretches out his feet, feeling the heels of his boots scrape against the asphalt (it’s so bad for them but they need to be resoled soon anyway, so fuck it).

Across the way, behind the chain link fence, a group of kids is playing basketball. It figures that would follow them, even on a day when they’re just out on a date that’s nominally a break from it. Liu lets his breathing settle and looks back at Himuro; of course he’s watching the game with his Captain Watching Practice face, running all those analyses he keeps stored in his brain. It’s actually pretty nice to watch now that Liu has nothing personal riding on the outcome. He takes another bite of the cinnamon roll, and yeah, he’s about had enough.

“Want more?”

“Hm?”

Himuro looks up; Liu waves the remains of the pastry at him. Himuro shakes his head.

“You can have it.”

“I was about to ditch it.”

“That, too,” says Himuro.

When Liu gets back from the trash can Himuro’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching the game. The kids are throwing airballs left and right and not even subtly traveling, but it is kind of cute. Liu drops his arm around Himuro’s shoulders, not even bothering with the bench this time.

“You want to play?”

“No more than usual,” says Himuro.

He smiles, quick and easy and fake and enough to make Liu want to wipe all the thoughts of basketball from Himuro’s mind for just a few moments.

“You want to go back?”

“Sure,” says Himuro.

Liu calls a cab (they’re on vacation; they can fucking afford it) and even though they can’t do too much in the backseat they can do enough for Himuro to basically jump him once they’re back at the hotel and the elevator door’s closed. By that point they’ve both forgotten enough of everything besides each other.


End file.
